


You Stole

by apurochi



Series: Answers [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Trans Character, idk like fingering or whatever sex shit ppl do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apurochi/pseuds/apurochi
Summary: so if I'm a liar and you're a thief, least we both know where the other one sleeps so let's end this tonight





	You Stole

**Author's Note:**

> :P oops

“Why would you ask me to do something like this to you?” Chrollo asked while straddling a flushed, embarrassed Kurapika and taking the last drag of his cigarette. He didn’t wait for an answer before he lowered his face down to match the one on the bed, and Kurapika didn’t resist when Chrollo used his free hand to hold it in place and spit into his mouth. Kurapika contorted his face at the foul taste, as much as he could while Chrollo was holding it still. Chrollo released him with a laugh as Kurapika looked up at him, eyes wide and lips trembling from the shame. He studied Kurapika while he caught his breath. “You have very strange interests.”  
  
Kurapika rolled over on his side, facing away from the other man. “Whatever. You’re no one to judge what I like and what I don’t.”  
  
Chrollo simply took the gesture as an invitation and settled behind him, burying himself in the curve of Kurapika’s neck and closing his eyes. “I prefer doing this much more,” he said, probably just to bother him. Kurapika hated it, when the man was _nice_ to him. He didn’t deserve gratitude or the satisfaction of his comfort. Chrollo kissed softly along his neckline, as he’d often done when Kurapika was too exhausted to protest. Kurapika waited for a tightening in his groin, for any sign of want from Chrollo, but it never came. He seemed to be perfectly satiated with holding him and it was disgusting.  
  
He had never seen Chrollo naked. Kurapika was embarrassed to acknowledge he’d been the only one to get off in these encounters, and that Chrollo always acquiesced to his requests without much of a fuss, no matter how extreme. It only made sense to Kurapika that the man he’d spent so much time hating should cause him pain, and shame. Fuel for his distaste. Somehow, it never ended up that way and Kurapika’s feelings slid more into confusion than anything else.  
  
When Kurapika asked him to, he was brutal. He didn’t question his desires and only pushed him to tears, way past the territory of pain into pleasure and past that still. Kurapika found himself craving it more and more each time, trying to find the edge of his hatred and frustration.  
  
It was worse when he was gentle. Maybe he knew. Chrollo didn’t apologize when he hurt him; Kurapika didn’t want him to. It was part of the sick game he’d created for himself. Fraternizing with the enemy, sleeping in his bed. He set out to find answers for his questions, and instead he found in Chrollo something he’d never received from anyone else. Release. Kurapika’s body felt heavy as Chrollo held him, and he tried to close his eyes, but they remained open, bloodshot.  
  
“Is this okay?” Chrollo whispered. He’d asked this before, like he needed permission after all the marks he’d left on him and all the pain he’d specifically been asked to inflict. Kurapika didn’t respond. Chrollo took his hand off his side and his face from his neck. He still wasn’t looking, but Kurapika could feel him roll over and settle on his back. He lay next to him silently, as if they were both there for the company.  
  
“Are you really okay with just lying there?” Kurapika hadn’t meant to address him at all, but the question slipped out. He could hear Chrollo laugh under his breath.  
  
“It’s your call, isn’t it? I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” It was unnerving how tame he sounded, how he appeared to be so interested in pleasing him. It must’ve been some sort of trick.  
  
Kurapika went back to silence and they both lay there, Kurapika with his back to Chrollo, still refusing to look at him. He studied the bland hotel art on the wall instead, and took deep breaths he hoped Chrollo couldn’t hear.  
  
_Aren’t you a thief?_ He caught himself before he said the words, trying not to rupture the silence. Some part of him wished they could forget their associations and stay in the boring hotel room, no past and no future tying them together to complicate the situation. It was an useless, unwelcome thought, and he let it go.  
  
“It’s okay,” he said after a while, and even though he felt like he was giving up, his body relaxed at his admission, as if it’d been waiting to betray him. Chrollo didn’t laugh or say anything, just rolled back onto his side and resumed where he left off. Kurapika rarely had to explain himself to Chrollo and maybe he hated that the most, that he took his permission and kept it like he’d kept everything else. Even his resentment rested tightly in Chrollo’s hands as he drummed fingers lightly on his shoulder and traced his side gently with the others. Kurapika’s breath hitched in his throat, effectively negating any calm he’d scrounged up by trying to distract himself. Chrollo’s hand slid down to cradle his hip and Kurapika wished he’d just move on already and get to where he meant to go, but he figured the lingering was a special brand of torture Chrollo had reserved for him that night. Kurapika’s chest remained exposed from when Chrollo had humored him earlier, and as he felt fingers glide softly past his stomach, Kurapika thought of how the shame burned brighter in that moment than the other times he’d hounded Chrollo, begged him to fan that flame so he could feel subhuman under him, so he could blame him for his pain. Hands left him to hover and he kicked himself for missing the contact, for being afraid he’d never touch him again.  
  
“Turn around,” he told him, and it was firm and humorless, but it wasn’t a command. Kurapika knew he could leave it, that he could ignore it and stare at the wall, that Chrollo would hold him until he fell asleep and he’d find no trace of him in the morning until one sought the other out again, but Kurapika found he didn’t want to wait until next time. He did as he was told, feeling cold hands pull his face inward.  
  
The fervency of Chrollo’s lips on his took him by surprise. The kiss was hungry and it unnerved him to think that Chrollo even wanted it, that he’d been holding himself back all along. Still, Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to believe that was true. He didn’t want to confuse the man’s intentions for affection. Kurapika waited for the trick, for Chrollo to take whatever it was he’d been after, but Chrollo pulled away, and all he saw was wanting eyes, soft around the edges, focused on him. It felt wrong and strange. Kurapika had to look away from them.  
  
Chrollo almost smiled, almost matched his gaze again, but his eyesight stayed on his own hands as they traveled over Kurapika. He propped him up on the headboard, leaning forward to caress him softly, and it felt so earnest and gentle that Kurapika told himself that he wasn’t allowed to enjoy it, but as Chrollo’s hands found his, the thoughts in his head left him. All that remained was Chrollo’s breath in his ear as he spoke to him.  
  
“Do you think you’re ready?” As if to coax a reply to his question, Chrollo kissed along his collarbone and Kurapika’s reserve crumbled for good. He was too ashamed to say it out loud, but the answer was obvious in the way he shut his eyes and exhaled for him when he touched him, when he kissed him softly enough for it to hurt from how good it felt.  
  
There was no hiding it. Kurapika had been wet when Chrollo kissed him, he’d been wet when Chrollo did as he was told and pinned him down to degrade him, wet as soon as Chrollo had walked into the room, all for him. He trembled in response to Chrollo’s hand on his thigh, and his breath caught once again as Chrollo spread his legs apart.  
  
They’d done something similar before, at Kurapika’s request, but it was rough and quick and lasted only a few minutes, with Chrollo choking him and thrusting his fingers relentlessly inside him until Kurapika arched his back from the orgasm, collapsed, and then refused to meet Chrollo’s usual expression of mild amusement. It was one thing to give out the instructions for his own torture, but another to be at the mercy of the stranger he vowed to deconstruct and destroy, to be touched so carefully by him. Kurapika burned as Chrollo dipped his fingers into him slowly, spreading his wetness onto him and using it to pleasure him directly, tracing gentle, slick circles around him and making him gasp in jagged breaths.  
  
It was torture, it was true torture to be held so close and fucked so gently. Chrollo took his time exploring him, searching for the areas that made him squirm and moan and bite his lip in an attempt to restrain himself, with little success. He seemed to figure out pretty quickly that Kurapika preferred his fingers inside over anything else and he focused on that, apparently entertained by the slickness of it and how easily he slid in, playing with him by hooking and twirling them around in his cunt, then opening them to spread Kurapika wide and cycling the motions. It was a shameful feeling, that he got that wet and that he liked it so much.  
  
Chrollo kissed his neck and thrust inside him in a steady rhythm, Kurapika feeling his toes curl from the sensation. He wanted more, wanted it faster, but he surrendered to Chrollo’s movements. It felt good, and he seemed to know what he was doing and where he wanted to go, though Kurapika was greedy and wanted so badly to come already. He thought of the kiss and it embarrassed him that maybe Chrollo wanted to prolong it, to spend as much time with him as possible. Chrollo’s lips brushed against his neck and the room was engulfed with the sounds of Kurapika’s breathing and the wet thrusting inside him.  
  
Eventually, Chrollo focused on increasing the pace of his fingers, settling at an angle that had Kurapika vocalizing an even tone that vibrated with the force of Chrollo fucking him harder. He smiled against his neck when Kurapika tensed around his fingers, and didn’t let up until he gritted his teeth and came in small, gentle waves, delivering a sound that was less than a moan and more like a whimper of defeat.  
  
Chrollo settled into the space next to him and held himself up with his elbow, licking his fingers. “Was that fun for you?”  
  
Kurapika sank into the bed, exhausted, and turned to him, absorbed by the void in his eyes. He remembered who he was lying with. He looked at the man beside him but felt no fondness.  
  
“Why did you do it?” It was the same question he asked every time, the one constant thread between the two of them. Chrollo knew what he was asking, and he stared passively at him for a couple of seconds, seemingly gathering his thoughts. Kurapika doubted his mental process was similar to his, entwined with emotion and responsibility. Chrollo’s gaze was empty, and it made his words ring like incomprehensible echoes. He always asked regardless. He owed him that much, at least the question.  
  
“Have you ever want something so badly you got carried away?” he asked him in turn, and Kurapika grimaced.  
  
“That’s not an answer.”  
  
Chrollo just smiled. “If I had known any of you personally like I do now, I wouldn’t have ever wanted to hurt you.” It sounded sickeningly honest and Kurapika couldn’t stand it. Even through intimacy there was room for fury. With Chrollo involved, that emotion lingered too close to the surface. He was a murderer, he was emotionless and all he ever did was toy with him, drag him into his endless stare. The bile of anger rose in Kurapika’s throat and he sat up, covering himself with blankets—as if it mattered.  
  
“Get away from me. Get out.”  
  
“Okay.” Chrollo simply gathered himself, getting up to leave without another word or even a glance.  
  
Kurapika turned again, choosing to stare at the painting on the wall and wonder if he’d let himself be found again, or if he would give in and seek Chrollo out himself to quench the infuriating thirst for contact that settled deeply in his heart.  
  
It was a funny thing to make your enemy into your partner. He had no room for forgiveness anywhere inside him, and he never intended to reconcile. Admitting he just didn’t know what he’d been doing with Chrollo all along was difficult enough. He wanted to feel like he was being wronged, like he was reopening a wound, but all he could do was cry in his absence. Shame and guilt mingled into a lump in his throat, and he apologized to people that couldn’t hear him.


End file.
